Angelic
by fantazise
Summary: In these flashing lights she was beautiful. Idolized by the camera lenses and the men behind them. But alone, she was heavenly, I could feel her on every part of me, doing things perfect, idolized, angels don't do. And she says to me, "Je l'aime maintenant, Je te aime plus tard, Je te aime dans une année, le mois et la vie. Ne pas se rendre," sounding perfectly angelic.


My attempt at an Emison AU prompt. Sorry for the typos, I didn't feel like looking over this. Also, I'm not sure if I want to continue this or leave it as a one-shot but I'm giving it a go. I do not own Pretty Little Liars, it would be pretty sick if I did though lmao. Without further ado, enjoy :)

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><p>Emily Fields, late as usual came storming out of her townhouse into the bumpy street clad in white jeans, a baby blue tee, black shoes, and an apron. But really, this was not surprise nor a disturbance to the birds or neighbors nearby because they heard Emily's door slam hurriedly every morning just the way it did that day. She was late every day and her boss obviously wouldn't give her many more chances. She was enough of a bitch as it was.<p>

Emily received the few usual catcalls from the french guys on the road, sitting on their light colored vespas as she turned onto a main street from her residential one. After walking this route for so long she started even to recognize some of the boys by face, figuring they did the same thing she did every morning and began waving back. If only _she_ could afford a vespa, but then again she'd probably still be late. It's almost as if she ran faster and faster each morning, laughing to herself at how much her high school gym teacher would've loved her newfound speed.

After high school, she attended UCLA for college on a swimming scholarship but was very unsure of what to do with her career. It was bold and whimsical, but she very uncharacteristically agreed to vacation to Paris for four months with her best friend, Hanna, who was fresh out of the Los Angeles Fashion Institute. So, come mid-June, her and Hanna say goodbye to Los Angeles and Rosewood and take off on a journey that was _much_ better then they anticipated.

Everywhere they went, people loved them. Hanna got looks everywhere she went. The concept of a blonde, American girl here was like heaven on Earth. They both began dating people here within a month, saying that they would just casually date. But when September came, Hanna wasn't ready to leave just yet. As a result, Emily yet again uncharacteristically agreed to Hanna's new crazy plan, they ended up moving Paris to see where life will take them.

After Hanna got her internship with some french designer whom Emily can't ever remember the name of, Emily was forced to get her job at the cafe in order to help pay rent on her and Hanna's new place. She was pretty sure that job wasn't going to last, though, according to how this morning was going.

Continuing to run in between people on the street, Emily heard a car honk behind her. She turned around to see what had happened but… suddenly she was on the floor. Well, not entirely. There was someone underneath her.

"_Descendre de moi_," says the body beneath her in a sultry, low voice. Immediately it was like music to Emily's ears. "Do you not speak French or something? Get off me!" Says the voice again, snapping Emily out of her thoughts. She looked to the floor and saw the bluest eyes she could possibly imagine, instantly mesmerizing her. _Get off me, _she translated in her head a bit too late. Emily got up and watched the person beneath her do the same. It was a beautiful, blonde, petite girl. Possibly the most beautiful Emily had ever seen. She had long hair styled in perfect ringlets, her blue eyes shown through perfect makeup, her pink, bow-shaped looked perfect and wet. Like the cover of a magazine, almost. Emily instantly felt embarrassed and color rose to her cheeks.

"_Je suis désolé." _Emily said quickly, her basic French picking up. _I'm so sorry._ She silently thanked herself for taking French in high school, and then noticed the purse by the beauty's, it's contents on the ground. "_Permettez-moi de vous aider à choisir cela." Let me help you pick that up, _she offered rushing to crouch by the blonde on the ground.

"Oh, so she does indeed speak," came the sultry voice again, in perfect, textbook English. Almost as if she were American. The gorgeous girl behind her turned and looked into Emily's brown eyes with a captivating smirk. Emily's heart was melting through the heat.

"You know, this would've been very awkward had I been a been a mute. It's not nice to yell at strangers," the brunette joked. A sunlit, perfect smile appeared and defined the blonde's high cheekbones. Emily had a nagging feeling in her gut that not many people had the chance to see this smile.

"Something tells me you're not a stranger." And with that, the two girls put the last of the blonde's things into the purse and she got up to leave. "Thanks for helping me, stranger."

"Anytime. I'm Emily, by the way, what's your name?" There was absolutely no way she was leaving without knowing this girl's name. A confused look crossed the blonde's beautiful features, but it left almost as quick as it came. She narrowed her eyes at the brunette as if she had something to hide, but then a contemplating look crossed her features, as if she was making a tough decision. Emily was waiting to hear a beautiful, french name to match the face but there was silence.

"Hmm…" Came shortly after. "Alison," continued the girl, a smirk tugging at her lips. "My name is Alison." She walked away, her heels clicking at the pavement.

"Fitting."

"Hmm… Why's that?

"It's very beautiful."  
>The blonde winked and walked away with her heels clicking at the pavement. The brunette felt intoxicated. She stood for a while repeating the name over and over because it simply felt beautiful to say it until she noticed a small, red, leather-bound book on the ground beneath her.<p>

_PRIVATE: If you find this, call 01-05-23-00 to return. And _**_do not _**_read. _

Emily must have found Alison's journal. She didn't have time to think about this, though. She was even more late for work. She stuffed the small book into one of the pockets in her apron and began running again, her mind lingering on crystal blue eyes and blonde hair.

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><p>At about 4 PM, once Emily had finished her shift, she began peacefully walking home. She hadn't been able to get the blonde out of her head all day. To make it worse, she even though she saw her on the streets a few times. But then, something really weird caught her eye. She walked by a newsstand which held about six side-by-side new issues of some french gossip magazines, each with an identical cover. A picture of a perfect blonde young girl walking what seemed very hurriedly in a baby pink blazer and dark jeans, her crystal blues probably piercing the camera lenses. The Eiffel Tower loomed in the background. It was unmistakably her. <strong><em>Vivan Darkbloom: Has she got something to hide? Caught sneaking out of ex-boyfriend's home! <em>**

It couldn't have been her, that was obvious. Emily didn't even have the energy to contemplate it, though. She continued walking home, the journal feeling heavy in her pocket, blue eyes in the back of her mind.


End file.
